It's been a while -- almost 20 years -- since I left my mini truck at home to instead be senior photo'd with my road bike. It was the purest macho I could conjure. I've ascended hill and dale with my enthusiasm for our sport fluctuating for decades. From the posters of Bugno & Lemond on my bedroom wall as a kid to the boxes of extra bike crap in the crawl space, to an extremely sophisticated penchant for the finest chianti - I've come a … [Read more...]

It's been years since a certain fellow, a dear hombre of ours, opened a big greasy umbrella under which seedy Cycklebloggers could commiserate and stand sheltered from the industry's funnyless precipitation. Of course, this group of like-actioned folks aren't the spawn of one particular region, one shop, one CAT, or one bar. We creep deep, all of us. We are nation-wide.
For years now, you've seen the likes of us: a little more leather, a … [Read more...]

I have been following the advice of a questionable (albeit very reasonably priced) soigneur this winter season. He tells me to load up before bedtime. Crostini, flaxseed oil, and an acidic beverage. I agree to do this to the maximum, as Dåv and I agreed; for interseasonal glory.
I go with the chianti, as the hard cider precipitates unmanageable fermentation. Eww. Before sleep, I don my arm warmers and a Lita Ford shirt, place the empty … [Read more...]

Everything was worke so well.
Chemie? Oui. Creme Chamois? Mmm-hmm. Nice. Saddle? Ooh, waxy! Even le chaussette hauteur was perfect this time. Parrrrrrrr-fait. Oh, and the sun. I don't forget that, too. So nice.
Laps ticked by like a Xanax plane ride. OOH! Another prime? Pour Moi? Why, okay!
It was time now to take the race, so as I see the finish, and pedale to win, why does this happen? I push the … [Read more...]

What are we left with now that doping has - without any uncertainty whatsoever - been completely and entirely eradicated from the pro peloton? What? You don't believe the thing about St. Patrick's magic whistle scaring off all the bloodsnakes from the island of CycleRace? Guffawer.
Superissimo, aka the Créma Süpremá of the Téte, has spotted the hole in the looking badass market. It's time for a new 'nache. Maybe, we hope, this new 'nache … [Read more...]

Though the micro-maisons of America are stocked with the spoils of consumption and our totems glow with thousands of HD programme choices--all this to say that by most counts we should be well satisfied--it does not mean that bicycle riding is a safe haven from the hidden perils of 1st worlde life. There are hotspots in feet. Disparate brake feel. Warm EPO. Unevenly spaced payment plans. It gets rough sometimes.
We know that musique is … [Read more...]

Saturday was a mess. Unless your thing is to enjoy getting barreled on abbey or trippel before noon and sit at the computer watching the Omloop in one of 8 unidentifiable languages, then there were very few reasons to to anything but get barreled on abbey or trippel before noon and sit at the computer watching the Omloop in one of 8 unidentifiable languages. So, for moments I did part of that, watching confused attacks form early, the men in … [Read more...]

It just makes total sense, ja? I mean, the rock/roll star of riding bicycles, and the grand tour champion of rock/roll? And don't forget the créme supréme of sassylips cyckler bloggery. The three of us come together like Gewiss in the '94 Flèche. Soft pedal for a wee time, bitte - it will be available en vêtement shortlich.
Shirts of this design are now available in the shoppe. Go see today!!!
… [Read more...]

Some Superissimo may or may not be at liberty to pontificate on the frustrations of high-end bicycle repair, but, like whatevlich. Nowadays, the most en-vogue way to tickle/tackle this topic would be an open letter, but the Superissimo way is to buck trends and throw bottles. This one's a direct letter to some Alpha-hole named Dennis, which keeps it from looking like an open letter. Superissimo magique.
Dennis,
Dammit. Dammit. You have … [Read more...]

He was incredible. It's a haunting image, seeing him sit waiting for the '98 tour to resume. I can't help but assume that aside from being bored while sitting in protest, he may have known the whole circus was getting a bit out of hand.
Destroying the Galibier.
Chasing the Bastard.
He gave up 9 years ago today. Long live Pantani. … [Read more...]